


the living daylights

by hedgehogwatch



Series: diamonds are forever [3]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mental Instability, Set in 1998, Stalking, end of the trilogy, sequel to a view to a kill, will mingyu finally get a break?, y'all thought this was over, y'all were wrong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-06 13:30:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12818583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgehogwatch/pseuds/hedgehogwatch
Summary: Just about everything in Mingyu’s new little life is unbearably sweet, from the inescapable scent of Joshua’s floral cologne, to the dainty vintage decor of the house, to the blissful monotony of his everyday routine. It’s what he wanted, truthfully, but some sick part of him misses the roughness of Wonwoo’s touch and the exhilarating high of knowing that he’s complicit in something wrong and dangerous.Something, anything, to offset the plastic perfection of this world is all Mingyu needs.





	1. comes the morning and the headlights fade away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh! here we are, the final chapter!  
> and y'all thought it was over...  
> it's time for one last wild ride with the gang until the story finally comes to an end. hopefully, most of the loose ends will be tied up, but- you know me- no promises!  
> this one might be a little shorter than the other two, but hopefully it'll be just as enjoyable of a journey.  
> also, since this is from mingyu's pov, the writing style is a little different. bear with me!
> 
> thank you all for supporting this series, as well as my writing. each one of you means the world to me <3
> 
> love,  
> hedgehogwatch

  **May 17, 1998**

Mingyu awakes to the warm sensation of sunlight caressing his cheek. Slowly, he blinks his eyes open, the picture of the world around him slowly coming into focus. Bright rays of sun filter through the sheer curtains of their bedroom and bathe the room in a soft haze, like fog on pavement. It illuminates the tiny glass vase of white lilies resting on the mantle of the fireplace, a thin blue ribbon tied neatly around the stems, projecting little flecks of light on the ceiling above. Next to him, Joshua sleeps soundly, fingertips lightly resting on Mingyu’s chest. It’s a comforting and familiar feeling, being in their room. Outside, the country, the language, the culture: they’re not his. But in this room, he belongs.

 

He looks out over the edge of the bed. In the corner of the room, rising above the distressed wood floors is his easel, a canvas resting on its ledge. For the most part, the canvas is blank; only a few strokes of black in the center break up the endless white expanse. No matter how hard Mingyu tried, inspiration for this particular piece just hadn’t come to him yet. Joshua told Mingyu he wanted him to paint some flowers. Mingyu had already painted fourteen different types of flowers for him. This time, he wanted to paint something dark and haunting and reflective of his past, something he can barely remember these days.

 

The name Wonwoo is only whispered in his nightmares, and all of the scars and bruises have since faded. In their place, Mingyu has quiet, dreamlike days, where the only marks on his skin are from his paints.

 

And he has Joshua.

 

Soft lips brush against Mingyu’s bare shoulder. “Did you sleep well?”

 

“Wonderfully,” Mingyu lies, reluctantly tearing his attention from the canvas to the man at his side.

 

Joshua chuckles, voice far too alert for this early in the morning. “Your sleepy eyes tell me otherwise.” He reaches up to stroke Mingyu’s cheekbones. “Go back to sleep, love, and I’ll come get you when breakfast is ready.”

 

Mingyu smiles and stares back at those beautiful bloodshot eyes, those delicate, chapped lips, and those dainty, trembling hands. Of course he didn’t sleep well last night. How could he possibly sleep well with the sound of something shattering waking him up at midnight? Initially, he’d thought an intruder had broken in, but when he woke up without Joshua at his side, Mingyu knew exactly what was going on. Quietly, he had padded over to the kitchen, only to see Joshua sitting on the floor, shards of glass surrounding him like stars around the sun. “ _Go back to sleep,_ ” Joshua had whispered, eyes wide and frightened.

 

So Mingyu did as he was told, without even saying anything in response, and crept back to bed. He laid there under the cold sheets and stared at the ceiling, wishing for sleep to steal his mind and numb him. Joshua came back into bed a few hours later and nuzzled his head into Mingyu’s chest, running his fingertips through Mingyu’s hair in an almost hypnotic pattern that finally lulled the younger to sleep.

 

Either Joshua genuinely doesn’t remember the events of last night, or he’s purposely avoiding the subject. But, then again, this sort of thing is a regular occurrence, so maybe it doesn’t even faze him anymore.

 

“Sounds good,” Mingyu replies, closing his eyes when Joshua kisses his nose.  

 

As soon as Joshua leaves the room, Mingyu releases the breath he’d been holding for who knows how long. The space next to him is warm from Joshua’s body heat, and the pillow above it smells like him, too. Like rosewater, and soap, and sugar.

 

Mingyu closes his eyes again, golden light falling on his eyelids and washing away the disquieting thoughts of last night, and of Joshua, and of his unfinished painting.

 

 _You don’t need to worry,_ he reminds himself. _You’re safe here. Joshua isn’t perfect, but he isn’t Wonwoo, and that’s all that matters_.

 

***

 

After some time, Mingyu feels something heavy settle next to him, and once again he’s suffocated by the smell of flowers.

 

“Breakfast is done and ready. All that’s left is you.” Joshua twists his arms around Mingyu’s waist, tightening like a vise. At first glance, he’s thin and breakable, but the strength in Joshua’s grip is unyielding and constricting.

 

Mingyu smiles weakly. “Thank you. I’ll be there in a minute.”

 

Joshua nods and places a small kiss on Mingyu’s lips before exiting the room, leaving the door open behind him. It’s hard for Mingyu not to wipe off the man’s kiss once he’s gone. His lips taste like pure sugar, which is delicious for a moment, but quickly becomes sickening. In fact, just about everything in Mingyu’s new little life is unbearably sweet, from the inescapable scent of Joshua’s floral cologne, to the dainty vintage decor of the house, to the blissful monotony of his everyday routine. It’s what he wanted, truthfully, but some sick part of him misses the roughness of Wonwoo’s touch and the exhilarating high of knowing that he’s complicit in something wrong and dangerous.

 

Something, anything, to offset the plastic perfection of this world is all Mingyu needs.

 

Once he’s showered and dressed, Mingyu walks into the kitchen, instantly greeted by the tempting smell of cinnamon rolls. Joshua is already seated at the head of the wooden dining table with his hands folded neatly in his lap.

 

“That took a lot longer than it should, don’t you think?” Joshua frowns, still somehow managing to smile at the same time.

 

Mingyu stiffens and furrows his eyebrows as he cautiously approaches the table and takes a seat in the chair opposite Joshua, the carved wooden legs screeching against the floor as he pulls back the chair. “I’m sorry, I had to shower and everything. I don’t think it took any longer than it normally does,” he answers slowly.

 

“Really?” Joshua’s face reverts to its normally-sunny expression. “Maybe I was wrong.”

 

A few moments of silence pass between them before Joshua clears his throat. “The cinnamon rolls are going to get cold, love.”

 

Obediently, Mingyu picks up his fork and takes a small bite. It’s pretty good by objective standards, but for Mingyu, it’s entirely too sweet. He’s pretty sure the cinnamon roll is 75 percent icing, and maybe 25 percent actual cinnamon roll, if he’s being generous. “It’s delicious,” he grins, licking off a rogue bit of icing from the corner of his lips.

 

Yet with every bite, he can’t help but to think about the fact that Joshua calls him ‘love.’ What is that even supposed to mean? That he’s Joshua’s love? Sure, he’s reminded of Joshua’s undying affection for him on a daily basis, but something about the delivery always leaves Mingyu with an unpleasant taste in his mouth. The words ‘I love you’ are uttered so frequently from Joshua’s lips that it’s lost its meaning.

 

Those three words were meaningless to him from the beginning, though. Mingyu has never needed love to survive. He’s never had it, and therefore could never really long for it. Love is always treated with such reverence, like it’s the most important and fulfilling thing a person can have. But if Joshua and his constant attack of sweet words and tender touches is what love really is, then Mingyu figures it’s an overrated concept.


	2. i've been waiting long for one of us to say

 

Joshua leaves after breakfast, vanishing into the outside world to go to his job in the city. Since they came here, Mingyu has only been there a few times, but that doesn’t really bother him. He hates the city. Even though it’s smaller than Seoul, it’s just so much more aggressive, people shouting in a foreign tongue and pushing one another without ever apologizing. Joshua had told him that, “You just get used to it,” but Mingyu is certain he never will. 

 

He sighs before walking back over to the table to pick up the dishes. Joshua cooks, and he cleans. Those are their respective household duties, unspoken, yet enforced nevertheless. The plates make a loud clanging sound as they’re placed on the white porcelain tile countertop, startling Mingyu just slightly. Ever since he saw Joshua’s eyes last night, he’s had an uneasy feeling in the back of his head, like a dark premonition hanging over him. Of what, though, he’s unsure. 

 

Shaking his head, Mingyu begins to scrub the plates, the predictability and familiarity of the action calming his nerves just a little bit. For a moment, he almost feels like a normal person, doing dishes, and having a loving partner, and living a quaint little cottage near North Haven, New York. He really did believe he could magically escape Wonwoo’s cage when they’d killed the man. 

 

Joshua had run up to him a few minutes later and gripped his shoulders, fingernails digging through the fabric of his shirt. “Mingyu, we need to go!” he cried, voice shaking. “They’re gonna come looking for me, and when they see Wonwoo dead, there’s no way I could convince them I’m innocent. There’s just too much evidence.”

 

Normally, he would have thought things over very carefully, but he had just had a hand in his boss’ death, and everything was all too overwhelming. “Where would we go?” he whispered.

 

Joshua’s face was streaked with tears, and he couldn’t stop twisting Wonwoo’s ring around his own finger. “I-I know some people in America. We just,” he looked back up towards the staircase that led to the hallway Wonwoo’s bedroom was, “We need to get off the grid, and out of Korea, and get our names out of the system. If we can stay incognito for long enough, they’ll just presume us dead. Please, Mingyu!” 

 

One look in those beautiful brown eyes was enough to persuade Mingyu. “Then let’s go.”

 

From that point on, it was as though a switch had been flipped, and he was no longer Wonwoo’s assistant, or Wonwoo’s punching bag, or Wonwoo’s anything. He was just Mingyu, a man trying to live as normally as possible, despite the turmoil of his previous life. Joshua had created a nice space for him, a charming house in a town without a name that was several acres away from any neighbors, where the two of them could try to begin again as not murderers or criminals, but ordinary people. Joshua got a job in the city doing something that made them enough money to be comfortable- Mingyu still doesn’t know exactly what his partner’s occupation was, but he figures it doesn’t really matter- and Mingyu turned to art as his job. 

 

Color and shapes had always fascinated Mingyu, and he’d shown a considerable aptitude for art at a young age. His childhood is but a blur now, but his love of drawing and painting is something he can just tell must have come innately to him. Plus, having a career as an artist allows him to work from home, where he doesn’t have to speak English or worry about his identity getting out. All he has to do is make pretty pictures for people, sign them under the name “Kim Gwangmin,” and he gets paid. 

 

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing. Slowly, Mingyu puts down the dish scrubber and plate and wipes his hand on the nearby towel. He pauses for a moment before reaching for the phone. Rarely do they ever receive phone calls; the two of them keep to themselves and only give out their number if it’s absolutely necessary, for good reason. Who could possibly be calling, then?

 

“H-hello?” Mingyu answers in his best English. 

 

A dark chuckle rumbles from the other line, and for some unknown reason, Mingyu’s heart begins to accelerate, and his grip of the phone becomes sweaty. He doesn’t want to consider the possibility, he doesn’t want to think about it, he doesn’t want to think about him, because he’s d- 

 

The voice is deep and smooth and speaks in perfect Korean. “Hi, Mingyu.”

 

Mingyu nearly drops the phone.  _ It’s not him it’s not him it’s not him it’s not him _ . “Who… is this?” His own voice is barely above a whisper, and he feels his knees threatening to give out any second.  _ It’s not him it’s not him it’s not him it’s not him it’s not him. _

 

“Two years and you’ve already forgotten?”

 

Tears prick at the corners of Mingyu’s eyes. He wants to vomit, or better yet, die. It can’t be Wonwoo. There’s no way. He killed him. He saw his lifeless body laying there on the floor. “Y-you’re dead…”

 

“Oh, Mingyu. Don’t you know?” The man laughs. “Only the good die young. It wasn’t my time yet.”

 

Mingyu’s hands go numb, and his jaw is clenched so tight he can barely open it to form words. The phantom sensation of cold hands on his body runs up his spine and around his neck. He can see Wonwoo’s eyes staring into his soul, blacker than a starless night, intangible, and yet so unbelievably real. “What do you want?” he breathes, pulse pounding in his ears. 

 

Wonwoo smirks from wherever he is. Mingyu can’t see him doing it, but he knows that he is. He knew the nuances of his boss’ actions better than he knew his own self. “I want you to know that you can’t hide. Sure, you can run. You can trick yourself into thinking you’re safe,” his voice drops to a deadly murmur, “But wherever you go, I will find you.”

 

It’s so surreal hearing Wonwoo’s voice whisper threats into his ear, just like the good old days. Back then, it was thrilling and almost seductive, Wonwoo’s constant show of power. On an off-day, maybe Mingyu would end up with a few bruises or something, but Wonwoo would always make it up to him somehow, and Mingyu would quickly forget it ever happened. Wonwoo would never _ really _ hurt him. He was obedient and loyal and lived solely for Wonwoo’s pleasure, in every aspect of the word. Wonwoo needed him, or at the very least, wanted him. 

 

Now, though, it’s terrifying beyond measure. Wonwoo has no reason to keep him alive, and he sure as hell has the means to kill him. Mingyu isn’t sure how to respond. His brain is shutting down, his body is growing weak, his heart is about to beat out of his chest. So he gives Wonwoo his customary, habitual reply. 

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Wonderful,” Wonwoo hums. “I knew you’d understand. You were always so clever.” He pauses for a moment. “Which is why I want you back.”

 

‘No,’ he wants to scream. He wants to hang up the phone and run away from this hell house as fast as he can until he reaches the ocean. And then he’ll find a little boat or something and drift out to sea until he runs out of food and water and dies. But he can feel Wonwoo pulling at his puppet strings, and damn, is his grip tight. “You… Want me back?”

 

“Yes, Mingyu. I miss you.”

 

Lies. Wonwoo just wants someone to fuck, and scream at, and hit. He wants someone on which to project his anger and frustration. He wants a toy. And Mingyu is not a toy. “Sir,” he rasps, vision growing blurry, “You don’t miss me.”

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you clearly. What was that again, baby?”

 

“You don’t miss me.”

 

Wonwoo’s laugh rattles Mingyu’s entire body, forcing him to slump down against the wall. He should never have opened his big fucking mouth. “You’re right. I don’t miss you. But I don’t particularly like it when things are stolen from me, so I intend to take back what’s mine.”

 

That’s right. How could he ever forget? He is Wonwoo’s. He’s said it so many times just to placate the man, but now, the meaning finally settles in. “No,” he protests. But it’s more like the whimper of an injured dog, prompting even more laughter from Wonwoo.

 

“Is that so? Well, hopefully you’ll remember just who you’re dealing with before I have to beat some sense into you myself.” Mingyu closes his eyes and hugs his knees into his chest, rocking back and forth in an effort to calm himself. “Oh, and send my love to Joshua,” Wonwoo whispers before hanging up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p l o t t w i s t!!! the ride is just getting started y'all... stay with me 4 the journey, homies.
> 
> mad crazy love  
> hedgehogwatch
> 
> if you've got any questions or just want to yell at me for all these confusing storylines, come chat on tumblr @thesoapclub!!!!


	3. i swear my nerves are showing

No matter how hard he tries, Mingyu just can’t get Wonwoo’s voice out of his head. It hangs over his head like cigarette smoke, corrupting his lungs and killing him from the inside out. He feels empty and hollow as he tries to make it through the remainder of the day, but everything reminds him of Wonwoo.

 

The sun reminds him of the days when Wonwoo would allow him to swim in his disgustingly oversized pool. Mingyu always loved the water; it was a momentary escape from the world around him, a place where he truly felt alone, and being alone made Mingyu happy back then. On a few rare occasions, Wonwoo would join him and swim furious laps around the pool’s perimeter, thin arms propelled by powerful shoulder blades beating the water into submission. But every time, after twenty or so minutes, Wonwoo would always tell Mingyu to get inside because he “was getting too dark.” Mingyu thought he looked the same with any skin color. Wonwoo apparently wanted him as pale as he was…  _ Is… _

 

The creaking of the floorboards reminds him of those nights when he’d sleep with Wonwoo, only to be forced to sleep in his own bed afterwards. Every step Mingyu took on his walk of shame back to his room made a telltale creaking noise, which always drew the attention- and judgement- of the other staff. 

 

It’s almost as though Wonwoo is in the room with him, silently watching, waiting for the perfect moment to steal him away. But when the front door opens that evening, it’s not Wonwoo. It’s Joshua, which makes Mingyu’s heart sink to his stomach. 

 

Joshua gives Mingyu a sweet smile as he walks inside and sets down his briefcase next to the front door. “I missed you,” he says softly, pulling Mingyu in for a hug. Those words make Mingyu’s skin crawl, and the smell of Joshua’s cologne doesn’t help any. Like some sort of hybrid monster from his nightmares, Wonwoo’s words tumble out of Joshua’s lips, mocking him with their gentle tone. 

 

“I missed you, too.” Warm, soft fingers intertwine with Mingyu’s own as Joshua presses his lips against his. The moment is supposed to be tender and loving, but instead, it reviles Mingyu. Joshua’s kiss is obscenely saccharine, like he’s shoving spoonfuls of sugar down Mingyu’s throat. Every movement of Joshua’s lips against his feels painful, and the wet moans Joshua makes grate his nerves until he wants to rip his eardrums out. Perfect white teeth tear at his lips and slowly make their way down to his neck, politely, but violently.

 

Half-lidded eyes look up at Mingyu. They’re indescribably beautiful, expressive and catlike. Every refraction of light turns to glitter once it reaches Joshua’s eyes, and the way it sparkles is nothing short of captivating. Mingyu hates them. 

 

Their beauty is aggressive, just like the whole of Joshua’s body. The man is disgustingly pretty, and every single thing he does seems to make people smile. His touch is kind and respectful against Mingyu’s shoulders as he lays him down on the bed. He doesn’t hit, or scream, or bite hard like Wonwoo did. Instead, he trails featherlight fingertips up and down Mingyu’s chest, never dipping down below his hipbones. 

 

So why, then, was Wonwoo so good to Joshua? Sure, he was planning to kill the ex-detective at some point, but Mingyu saw the way Wonwoo looked at him, the small upward curl of his lips when he would see Joshua arrive at his mansion. Wonwoo certainly didn’t like it gentle, like Joshua does it, so the only other reason must be Joshua’s looks. 

 

He’s beautiful, hovering over Mingyu with glassy eyes and red, swollen lips, and beads of sweat running down his neck. His biceps flex as he grips onto Mingyu’s hips, revealing lean muscles. His waist is tiny, and his legs are thin, and his neck is long, and his skin is flawless, and God, does Mingyu wish he were that pretty. Maybe then, Wonwoo would have wanted him, or maybe even be nice to him. He knows he’s not ugly, but perhaps, if he starved himself and got skinny like Joshua, or if he put some makeup on to emphasize his eyes or lips, then he’d have been perfect for Wonwoo.

 

_ Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwo- _ Mingyu freezes as Joshua undoes his belt. Wonwoo is alive. Wonwoo called him. Wonwoo is out there somewhere with the knowledge that Mingyu attempted to murder him and the means to kill him. He knows their number, and Mingyu assumes it’s only a matter of time before he finds out where they live. He wants to tell Joshua and confide in him and have Joshua protect him, just like he promised he would. But he also knows that Wonwoo is a delicate subject with Joshua. 

 

Even though he still proudly wears Wonwoo’s diamond ring on his left ring finger, the slightest mention of the drug lord never fails to send Joshua into madness. Usually, he’ll just hiss at Mingyu for being so stupid as to bring him up. Sometimes, he berates Mingyu and storms out of the house. What scares Mingyu the most, though, is when Joshua just smiles and nods his head in thought, saying something along the lines of,  _ “Oh, I remember him.” _

 

      “What’s wrong, Mingyu?” Joshua frowns, noting the dazed expression in the other’s eyes. He says it not out of concern, but out of frustration. 

 

      “I-I… I’m fine.”

 

      “Then why aren’t you doing anything?” he scoffs, motioning to Mingyu’s rigid body beneath him. “I don’t have to go out of my way to make you feel good, you know, but I do it because I love you. Can’t you at least respond or something?”

 

      Mingyu swallows, looking down at Joshua’s fingers hovering above the button of his jeans. He doesn’t want this right now. He’s going to be sick. “I’m not feeling well, Joshua,” he rasps. 

 

      The look on Joshua’s face softens. “What are you feeling?”

 

      Truthfully, Mingyu doesn’t know what he’s feeling. The emotions inside of him are like a hastily, but tightly wound ball of yarn, fraying and knitted in spots. Anger is indistinguishable from happiness, and hatred is indistinguishable from love. “I’m just…” He swallows, scrambling for the right words. “Feeling nervous right now.”

 

“Poor baby.” A smile cuts through Joshua’s face, and he shifts himself off of Mingyu’s hips, laying at his side instead. His fingers thread through Mingyu’s hair gently and cautiously, as though he was petting a wild animal. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. How are you feeling now?” he hums, caressing Mingyu’s face with the back of his hand. 

 

“Not any different than I was before.”

 

A few deadly seconds pass between them, Joshua just staring at Mingyu with a furious smile on his face. “Well, then you better sleep alone tonight. Maybe you’ll feel better in the morning.” He says it so sweetly and genuinely that Mingyu almost believes that he’s sincere. But the tightness in his jaw and the tension in his neck give it away. Joshua is angry. Mingyu hates when Joshua is angry.

 

“No,” Mingyu protests, latching onto Joshua’s wrist as he tries to get off the bed. “Please, Josh. I’m sorry. I’m feeling fine. We can do whatever you want.”

 

Joshua rips his hand from Mingyu’s grasp and stands up. “I think,” he smiles again with a tilt of the head this time, “Some sleep will do you good. Alone.” A tiny kiss is placed on Mingyu’s forehead before Joshua walks toward the door, creaky floorboards crying out in pain when Joshua steps on them. “Good night, Mingyu.” He closes the door.

 

When Mingyu closes his eyes, he tries to forget about Joshua and their charming little house and the smell of flowers and the paintings of flowers and just fucking flowers in general. He tries to forget about Joshua’s warm hands on his skin, touching him like they’re asking for permission. He tries to forget about Joshua’s perfect face and perfect little body and pleasant disposition. Mingyu doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want cinnamon rolls and he doesn’t want dishes and he doesn’t want Joshua coming home and pretending like he’s a normal person. He’s not a normal person. They’re not normal people. No one comes in Jeon Wonwoo’s house and leaves a normal person.

 

He doesn’t want to think about Wonwoo either, but it’s so much harder to forget. Wonwoo’s touch left scars on his body and made him bleed and made him feel so much more fucking alive than he ever had before. Wonwoo never asked for permission; he did as he pleased and did what pleased him. He killed, and lied, and stole, and somehow he still managed to trick everyone into loving him. Including Mingyu. 

 

But that was the past, and this is the present, and Mingyu knows he’s in real danger. He’s a walking target, a foreigner with nowhere to run, no one to run to, and no one to protect him. All he can do now is wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asdfghjk sorry i've been gone for so long- it's finals week and also i tore my hip (but mainly bc i'm working on my wonhui car dealership au)
> 
> please accept this chapter as a token of my apology :( also, ya know, follow me on tumblr @thesoapclub
> 
> lovelovelove,  
> hedgehogwatch


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